Wanted:Dead or Alive
by pixiealamode123
Summary: All Father Castiel Novak wanted was a simple life where he could read the scripture and preach his word. But then he finds himself in a heap of trouble, left to die in the Texas heat with only the buzzards as company. That is until he is rescued by a strange angel who may or may not be an outlaw. (Steampunk Western AU Destiel, aw yeah!)
1. Angels

**AUTHOR NOTES: Please enjoy! This was edited and approved by my bestie LittleIsis. All mess ups are her fault. (Just kidding, love you!) **

Wanted: Dead or Alive

Chapter One: Angels

It was so hot it hurt to breathe. The air shimmered like he was in an ocean of sand. He kept walking despite the muscle spasms that stuttered every step. He'd been walking for so long he had forgotten how to stop. His worn shoes carried sand in and out of the heel as he walked. Castiel did not regret his life despite how horribly it was about to end.

Castiel had always thought of himself as a simple man. Growing up he didn't eat much besides the dark rye bread his Mother baked. The borscht was his favorite treat, eaten on the coldest winter days. On Christmas his parents would light all the candles in the house and dance to music his Uncles played on a fiddle. He found joy in lit candles. He found happiness in the eyes of the Madonna who graced his Mother's bedside table.

He wished for the coldest New York night. Like the winter where the water froze in the glass he left by the windowsill. Instead he was facing the Texas sun as it beat down relentlessly on his back. He licked his blistered lips to sooth the pain but the meager moisture left on his tongue was not enough. His legs chose that moment to fail. He sagged to his knees and fell face first to the hot sand. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. But Castiel only clung on to one memory, his parents laughing brightly with the Christmas candles flickering high in the night.

"How do you know if we're going in the right direction? We could be going in circles Dean!" Sam was practically yelling as their covered wagon bumped along the rocky trail. His brother didn't disguise his eye roll.

"Baby knows the way to go. Besides the compass always points south right? And that's the way we're going." He clicked the reigns and the horse named Baby cantered a little faster. She was a smooth black Arabian that Dean had stolen when she was just a foal.

"Dean for the love of God we're supposed to be heading north. You know, _towards _South Dakota."

"Calm down Sammy or you'll pop a blood vessel if you keep up that bitch face." Their extended stay in the Western regions of America had made Sam a bit cranky. He was always complaining about the sand in his boots or the heat. Of course the heat was bad, they were in the middle of the desert. Dean rarely let the weather bother him anymore. He sighed happily with the sun beating down on his face and the hot air blowing through his hair. Along the horizon he could see a wake of Vultures circling high in the sky. He counted at least six which meant whatever animal was currently dying of thirst was a large one.

"Want to see what poor shmuck is rotting up the way?" Dean asked his younger brother. Sam shrugged noncommittally which Dean took as a yes. He slapped Baby's rear to indicate the change in direction.

A mile or so up the trail sat what appeared to be a wad of black cloth baking in the sun. A vulture was investigating the odd shape to determine whether it was edible or simply a piece of trash left by one of the passing wagon trains. The bird pecked at the only visible shred of color amongst the mass. The mass let out a defeated moan; the vulture squawked in disappointment, his meal was still alive. Dean himself was surprised when the odd black shape unfolded into the shape of a human. A very thin, very haggard looking human with their skin drawn taunt against their bones from dehydration but a human nonetheless lay dying in the hot Texas sun. He leapt from the wagon without stopping the horse.

"Sam get the water. They're still alive." He picked the skeletal man from the burning sand and cradled him in his arms. Two marble blue eyes opened slightly as the cowboy carried him.

"An angel, I must be in heaven." The man sighed in a deep voice full of sad relief. Dean's heart beat a little harder in his chest. The man was half dead yet his eyes were so alive. Before Dean could correct him the man in black had passed out in his arms.


	2. Rivers

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Special thanks again to LittleIsis for editing this. With out your support I couldn't have posted this on the Internet. Oh and to all you reviewers thank you! I am so happy you guys like my story so far. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Oh and did I mention before that this is cattlepunk? It's like steampunk but frontier-y. **

Chapter Two: Rivers

Castiel woke to a plain white canvas hanging above his head. This was not the green-eyed heaven he had seen before he welcomed the black. His whole body ached while his skin felt like it was on fire. If it weren't for the cool wet blanket draped over him, he was sure he would have fainted from the pain. Somewhere beyond the white wagon covering he could hear the gentle twang of someone playing the guitar accompanied by a low voice singing a melancholy cowboy hymn. He was soothed back to sleep by the crooning like a child hearing a lullaby.

The second time Castiel woke up the angel was back. He was murmuring something while pressing a cool bottle to his lips.

"You have to drink more or you'll die." Dean pushed the bottle against the man's chapped lips till he met teeth. Weakly, his charge parted his lips to allow the water to pass through. Castiel swallowed while his angel poured the icy water into his mouth. The man was satisfied once Castiel had drunk the entire canteen. "See I bet you're feeling better already."

"Yes." Castiel coughed. "Slightly." The angel beamed at him with crinkled eyes.

"Now that you can talk want to tell me your name? "

"Castiel, Father Castiel Novak." He raised a weak hand to his throat to tug at the white collar that had once rested there. He had forgotten for a moment that it had been ripped away. "Oh, I suppose I'm not that any more." The angel gave him an odd look.

"A priest? You're a priest? What the hell are you doing in the middle of Texas? Shouldn't you be in a church somewhere blessing virgins or whatever you guys do?"

"I-I was excommunicated from the church." He squeezed his eyes shut so his savior couldn't see the pain.

"What happened?"

In Castiel's mind he felt the solid ground turn into sand. Behind him he could hear the angry yells of men and smell the burning rags used to light the torches. The desert was stretched out in front of him with only pinpricks for stars to light the barren landscape. He hoped his feet could carry him faster then the hate could carry the men thirsty for blood behind him.

"I don't really remember." Castiel lied. He felt ashamed for lying but surely this man would think differently of him if he told the truth. The angel's brows knitted in concern but didn't press the question any further.

"The heat really got to you. Are you still running a temperate?" Dean placed a warm rough hand against Castiel's brow. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, it was shameful but he hadn't had human contact in so long. "Nope. Looks like the two straight days of water and wet blankets have really helped you. Do you think you're ready to eat something Padre?"

"Yes, I don't think I've eaten in days." Castiel used all his strength to sit himself up. The wet blanket slipped off of his shoulders to pool in his lap.

"Alright I've got some stew bubbling on the pit. I'm going to grab you a bowl and spoon so you can chow down. Lay back down Cas, you need to conserve your strength." Dean ducked out of the covered wagon, slinging his long legs to the ground with ease he dropped out of the bucket like a stone. The sun was slowly setting in the west, which marked the third day the stranger had been in their company. When they had found him Father Castiel had been at least a three-day horse ride away from the nearest town. How did the scrawny man get so deep into the desert with only the shoes on his feet and the shirt on his back? The universe works in mysterious ways he mused.

Sam was stirring the pot of rabbit stew while watching the setting sun. Dean could tell he was day dreaming again. Probably thinking of that little university in the Pacific West that wanted him so badly. It was rare for a cowboy to read, it was even rarer for a cowboy to be as intelligent as Sam. But they needed at least a thousand dollars for the kid to afford the usual four years. Dean coughed to break his brother out of his melancholy trance.

"Hey, how's our stranger doing Dean? Or should I say Angel." Sam lifted the wooden spoon to his lips to taste the brown broth. It was nowhere near as good as Ellen's but it would do.

"Better. He's talking, sitting up and wanting some grub. Do we have any bread left?" Dean grabbed the spoon from his brother and tasted the remainder of the stew. "Bleh needs more salt and pepper."

"Yeah well we used that all up yesterday. Same with the bread." Sam took offense to the salt comment. His cooking was fine thank you very much.

"Good thing we're only a day out from the Texas line. Rufus has got himself a trading post just a day's ride from there. I've got enough gold to buy us some supplies and Cas some clothes." Dean poured some of the stew into a wooden bowl making it more broth then stew.

"Oh you finally got the guy's name huh?" Sam spooned his own share into a metal tin. He didn't bother finding a spoon, just sipping it directly from the edge of the container.

"Father Castiel Novak. He's a fucking priest can you believe that? Well ex-priest I guess." Dean threw a rag over his shoulder and carried the steaming bowl towards the wagon.

"Wait, you told him your name right? I mean he can't just keep calling you angel. It's kind of creepy."

"Shut it. You're just jealous." Dean smirked before hopping up into the wagon bucket. Sam snored into his stew; Dean _liked_ being called angel, what a jerk.

On the seventh day of Castiel's recovery the trio reached the Red River, their last stop before the rolling grass of the Great Plains. The river ran like smooth blue glass reflecting the white clouds above. With the green grass billowing gently in the distance and the call of bird song in the air Castiel was filled with a sense of wonder he had never felt in the confines of the church.

"Who needs a church when you have sights like these, right Padre?" Dean smiled warmly. Castiel felt his stomach pitch in an odd way.

"It's beautiful." Castiel shivered though he wasn't cold at all. Dean decided they'd settle right at that spot for the day and enjoy some time out of the wagon. Baby pranced around their camp excited to be off of her reigns. Her glossy black coat mixed well with the never ending blue of the sky and the green of the grass. Castiel wished for a moment he were an artist; he wanted this image to last forever. He would paint the light, the man and the grassland sea in slashes of blue, grey and green. Dean's eyes would be the same color as the land.

Dean helped Cas out of the wagon on to the soft grass. Castiel tried to argue with Dean that he could stand for himself but Dean would not budge on the matter. Castiel could have died out there in the heat. They walked, though Castiel was shaky, towards the river. The pebbly sand of the riverbank was warm from the sun, the cool water lapped at the shore in a gentle sigh.

"I'm going go read a bit, you guys enjoy the scenery."

"Wait, send a message to Rufus that we're coming okay? You know how he gets jumpy." Dean handed his brother a small nut shaped object that glittered bronze and silver in the sunlight. Castiel looked curiously at the thing held in the giant's palm. Before he could ask what it was the metal object popped open. Small wings extended from the sides of the sphere while the top dome opened to reveal a bird like head.

"Message sir?" The metal bird chirped in a girlie voice. Castiel could only blink in amazement.

"Send to Rufus." Sam's clear voice rang out " We are on our way. Stop. See you in two days. Stop. Thank you Squawk." The metal bird ruffled it's feathers and stood up on two tiny silver feet.

"Thank you sir! Coordinates for Mr. Rufus Turner are the same I would assume?"

"Yup, good job Squawk. Please wait at Mr. Turner's until we arrive." The tiny tin bird nodded then by some modern marvel flew off towards the South. Castiel could hardly believe his eyes.

"What the hell was that?" He swore, he rarely did but he felt like the situation garnered strong language.

"An invention from the mind of an orphaned red head. When we get to South Dakota you will be able to meet our evil genius." Dean explained, behind him grinned in a mirror of his brother's half smile. They didn't look alike but their mannerisms were so similar it was easy to tell they were brothers.

"How does it work?" Castiel pressed.

"Do I look like I would know?" Dean laughed and began to strip off his black duster. Castiel raised a brow in surprise. The heavy black cowboy boots came off next.

"What are you doing now?" He watched with veiled interest as the second layer, a vest came off. Then his pale green button up shirt till all that remained was a plain cotton shirt. Castiel had only felt this type of stomach churning confusion once; when he was in seminary school he met a girl whose beautiful green eyes nearly charmed him away from the church.

"Come on Cas, I need a bath. I've got dust in my ass crack." The last layer of clothes consisted of his shirt and the dusty pair of pants he wore.

"But I don't have any bathing shorts." Castiel sputtered trying so hard not to look at Dean's body. Only look into his eyes, don't look, don't look he chanted.

"Then you'll just have to go in naked like the day you were born." In a flash of tan cheeks the cowboy was up to his neck in the water. "Come on!" He yelled before disappearing into the river like an otter.

The dark haired man inched his way towards the river. He shed his ever-present blanket to carefully remove what was left of his trousers. No body was around for hundreds of miles except for the two brothers. He wasn't very good at swimming but it wasn't very deep. He could see the bottom through the sunlight patches. He threw his shirt to the beach and waded into the water. It was warmer then he expected it was like a warm bath. Dean surfaced right by his waist with a huge smile on his face.

"See it's nice. Winchester's don't lie, very often." He flipped on his back and swam backyard through the water to watch Castiel who refused to look anywhere but his eyes. He held Dean's gaze for so long his heart was the only thing he could hear. If there was a heaven the whole force of it lay behind Castiel's eyes.

"You were right. I'm sorry I ever doubted the great Dean Winchester." Castiel broke their eye contact to dive upstream.

"Was that sarcasm? I didn't think Priests could make jokes." Dean called.

"Ex-priest." Castiel reminded. He swam a bit deeper liking how weightless he felt. The water was cooler; it eased the burns on his raw skin. He felt stronger somehow.

"Can you still turn water into wine?" Dean was right behind him radiating heat like some kind of sun god. Despite their close quarters in the wagon Castiel suddenly feels stifled. "Cause I could really use a drink right now. Hey now, how about whiskey instead of wine?" Dean laughs heartily at his own joke.

"I'm afraid they didn't supply us with that knowledge in the how to be a priest hand book. You'll just have to deal with river water." Splashing Dean in the face took a certain amount of courage. Swimming quickly away didn't take any bravery at all.

"Pretty good joke for some guy we found rotting in the desert. I'd be careful or you might end up there again." Dean was a much faster swimmer and didn't have the disadvantage of wet cloth. He was behind Castiel in a minute, looming, casting a long shadow over the beach.

Castiel froze in fright. He wasn't on the beach anymore he was back at the church. The Bishop was roaring with unbridled rage. "I will cast you out Castiel! I will damn you to hell!" His voice was accompanied by the harsh crackling of the burning torches and the scent of sweat. Dean's hand found it's way to his shoulder and with one swoop the visions were gone.

"Shit I was kidding man. I would never do that to you."

"But you're right. I'm a stranger you don't even know me." Dean visibly winced, it sounded cold to his own ears.

"Don't say shit like that Cas. I'm sorry." He laid his other hand on Castiel's tense shoulder. The warmth of his palms should have been reassuring but he felt wrecked by it. Castiel didn't know why but his chest hurt. The pressure was slight enough for him to ignore it most of the time but whenever Dean was around it tightened. He justified it by telling himself it was because he was grateful he had been rescued. Saved by a green-eyed man that would spare him some of his own water in a place where water was so rare. Saved by a man who gave him the shirt off of his back. A man who cupped him by the back of his neck with his large calloused hand and fed him soup like an infant.

"I'm going back to the wagon. I'm feeling rather ill. I must have over worked myself. Excuse me Dean." He tried to walk slowly but his legs itched to move. The adrenaline from the flash back made him yearn to run. If only his legs weren't shaking like a new born calf's. He let himself look at Dean once more before retreating to the shelter of the covered wagon.

"What happened Cas? Are you ever going to tell me?" Dean whispered to the shadow of the man crossing the grassland.


	3. Thieves

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: All right so to establish a time I'm thinking this is anywhere between the late 1850's to the early 1900's. I really wanted it to be after the Civil War and Spanish American War. Please note that you could not just go into a store and buy shoes or clothes like we do today so this story is not historically accurate. I just wanted to speed the story up a bit. There will be more Steampunk items later on in the fic since Charlie hasn't made her appearance yet. So you can look forward to more gear and cool goggles! **

Chapter Three: Thieves

The path across the grasslands was much smoother then the rocky desert terrain of Texas. All around them was space—a huge expanse of empty land the likes of which Castiel had never seen. Growing up in New York he became used to the cramped spaces and smells of millions of people crammed in one place. Out here in the wild plains there was no one for miles but the two brothers and him. Sometimes they rode in silence with only the clip-clop of Baby's hooves to cushion the soundless plains, other times Sam's bark of a laugh from a joke of Dean's would send the birds flying from the grass.

Sam and Dean asked him about where he was from, how his family was and things like what was his favorite food. They did not ask him why he was in the desert. He told them of his Uncle's fiddle, his love for the stained glass windows at the seminary church and his favorite tales that were left out of the bible.

"The Catholic church left out how Jesus went to hell to get the old Jewish heroes out. I never understood why since it explained why he was gone for three days." Castiel said. He kept the excitement out of his voice so Dean would not think him odd. The cowboy looked at him with awe.

"How do you keep that much stuff in that head of yours Cas? I mean, I know Sam here is just a freak of nature with all that knowledge but you know things the Catholic Church doesn't want other people to know."

"I bet he's in a secret society." Sam theorized. "Is it the Knight's Templar or the Illuminati?"

"What? I don't understand that reference." Clearly flustered. He squinted at them. Though he was an avid reader Castiel had not ventured far enough into the history of the Catholic Church to know about secret societies.

"It's the Illuminati then."

"Yup, I would say so." Dean agreed with his brother. They erupted into laughter at Castiel's expense. It felt pleasant to be part of a family again.

0

Rufus Turner ran his settlement with a stern hand. He was rabbi, sheriff and judge in the three-horse town called Redemption. One of a few stops on a long trade root, strangers were always riding in and out with fur or gold to trade for supplies. Rufus stocked his general store well with bullets, blankets, clothes and rare items like sugar or fresh meat.

They rode into town late in the evening. Sam was asleep in the back while Castiel sat in the cab with Dean. Dean had told him of Rufus's life as an outlaw before he found a wife and settled down. Dean idealized the man despite his crimes. It was an odd view of the world for Castiel who usually thought in black and white, but as he came to know Dean's views he began to see shades of grey.

Rufus greeted them with a shotgun in his hand.

"Can I help you boys with something?" He cocked the gun and pointed it directly at Dean who laughed like he was pointing a finger. Baby pawed at the ground restlessly she did not like guns, especially when they were pointed at her human.

"Didn't you get our message Rufus?" Dean gave the reigns to Castiel and hopped off the wagon. He walked slowly towards the man who kept the gun trained on Dean.

"Yeah I got your mechanical bird. But I'm waiting for the catch. Last time you boys came to town a U.S. Marshal came sniffing around. You know I hate them mother fuckers." Rufus narrowed his eyes but allowed Dean to come close enough to put the barrel directly against his chest. They spoke in hushed tones that Castiel strained to hear. He wondered what they were hissing to one another but all he could hear were random words thrown in the air.

"There's nobody on our tail this time Rufus. Sam and I have been working the cowboy shtick out in Texas. We haven't done a gig in months. Not since The Ruby Rails nearly got us caught. Now put the gun down I got gold to spend and a priest to feed."

"You mean that raggedy twig-thin mother fucker is a priest?"

"Ex-priest. We found him in the desert half-dead."

"Boy, you know better then to pick up strays."

"Rufus, I got a good feeling about this kid. Leave him be. He's under my protection."

"Yeah fine, whatever. Get your gold and your priest I'll get you some supplies." The merchant ordered. He lowered the gun from Dean's chest; Castiel puffed out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. At least Dean was safe from imminent harm. "Now where is that brother of yours? He promised to look over my books next time he came so I don't have to pay out the ear in taxes. You know the government loves charging my black ass for everything."

Dean woke Sam up by clanging the metal cooking pot right above Sam's head.

"Rise and shine buckaroo!" He shrieked right into his brother's ear. Castiel could not muffle his laughter after Sam sat straight up ending with the pot on his head. He didn't know what was more hilarious, how silly Sam looked in his new "hat" or how hard Dean was laughing. Sam pushed him out of the wagon still laughing till his head hit the ground.

The young men continued their merry making into the general store. It wasn't as nice as the department stores in New York but the food looked just as good. There were rock candies glittering in jars, hunks of freshly dried jerky next to plump looking tomatoes and corn. Castiel was dazzled after living a life of poverty for so long. Dean placed a solid gold bar on the counter where Rufus sat puffing on a pipe.

"Pick whatever you want Cas. You need some damn clothes other then that blanket and my shirts. They're falling off of you." Castiel didn't want to say it out loud but he would miss wearing Dean's clothes. The shirt smelled so much like him, earth and the tang of salt that it was easier to sleep at night. Reluctantly he picked out a simple button down with a black shirt vest to go over top. Though Dean wore jeans all the time Castiel chose a pair of trousers made of cotton. The clothes were tight compared to Dean's cast offs and his preacher habit. He didn't miss the white collar against his throat, sometimes he could still feel the suffocating press of it against his Adam's apple, and it had not been a comforting sensation.

"I'd invite you to dinner but Linda hates sweaty cowboys at the supper table. You boys will have to clean up. Lucky for you I got my own genius. My boy Kevin made us a heating tank for the water. No more cold water baths for this old coot. " Rufus grinned widely. Kevin was the son of his wife Linda who he met while he was working on the railroad. Linda was a smart woman who made her living translating the workmen's orders to Korean or Chinese for the immigrant workers. Her husband had been one of fifty that died the day the tried to blow up a mountain to make a tunnel. Kevin had been too small to remember his father, which made Rufus the only Dad he ever knew.

"You know he's going to Harvard next year? I had to pay an arm and a leg just to get him there but it will be worth it." Rufus was obviously proud of his adopted son. He continued to gush about the boys various inventions as they walked towards the big white house in the middle of town.

The house had been built by Rufus himself—every brick, every window, was laid out just the way he wanted. They walked up to the hand-made porch that didn't creak a bit through the pretty oak door that held strange symbols all over the front of it past a kitchen where delicious and unfamiliar smells hovered up a flight of stairs to a bathroom. The sink and the bathtub were made of fine ceramic that shone a prestine white under the gaslight.

"The priest can go first. I have a few things to talk to you boys about." Rufus walked back down the steps with Sam following closely behind him. Dean's hand circled Castiel's wrist and squeezed reassuringly. Castiel's heart began to beat at double the pace while his face warmed up like a stovetop. Even the tips of his ears were hot with the fever of admiration.

"You going to be alright man?" Dean was reluctant to let Castiel do anything without him. Dean perceived that if he looked away Castiel would fade like morning mist. He knew Cas wouldn't abandon him, he just wished he knew why he felt so afraid that he would.

"Dean I'm just taking a bath."

"Just don't slip in fall okay?" He slapped the ex-priest on the ass and sauntered down the steps.

0

"So let me guess… you have a job for us." Sam sat down at the kitchen table with a plop. He had on his best bitch face that was usually directed towards Dean, turned towards the merchant.

"You bet your ass I do. I heard about your last fuck up with The Ruby Rails. I thought you would like another chance to get back at ole' yellow eyes for your Daddy." Rufus smirked knowingly. Sam knew right away that Dean would take the job whether or not Sam advised against it.

"Yellow Eyes" or Azazel Holle was one of the richest coal barons in all of America. Nearly every train was powered by his coal, and if they weren't they were bought out by Azazel's partner Crowley James. John Winchester had worked a long time on the railroad, building tracks, running steam engines, and developing plans to expand the tracks further to Mexico when Azazel decided he needed the young man's trains to run on his coal. He tried everything to convince John to join his crew but John did not like the shady way Yellow Eyes ran his business. He refused to join the crooked businessman and his group of thugs, until Azazel decided to use a new way to convince John to join his crew. Instead of scaring John into a deal he burned down their home killing Mary, the boys' mother, and scarring John for life. John did everything he could to seek revenge after that.

John began to run with a harder crowed. He ditched railroad workers for outlaws and bandits. That's where he met Rufus and Bobby. They became an unstoppable force causing trouble across the settling west from Saint Louis to San Fran. They were Jonny Bronco and the Rowdy Ranchers known for slipping on and off trains without being seen. John became a legend while the boys became orphans. Dean raised Sam, becoming everything to the kid while their Father was off robbing trains.

"So what's the line we're running this time?" The younger man pressed a hand against his temple. He could feel a headache coming on thanks to stress. He hated robbing trains. It was messy work that often ended in someone getting hurt. Usually they only robbed the trains' wealthy people road on. They made a mistake when they had tried to rob the Ruby Rails, discovering it was full of impoverished immigrants instead of rich well to do city folk like it had been advertised. It had been a trap set for them by the rail company and the government. They had been lucky, the two boys had been able to sneak off the train without anyone noticing they had attempted to rob it in the dead of night.

"It's the Grand Central Flyer—you know, the one that runs from San Fran to Saint Louis to New York. Only the richest folk can afford a ticket on that one. I've got intell that a couple of oil barons are riding that train. It ain't gonna' be easy since they have their own security system now but I figured you boys have God on your side now."

"You mean Cas? Castiel can't rob a train Rufus. The poor guy was nearly dead when we found him." Sam felt protective of Castiel. Dean thought the guy walked on water despite barely knowing anything about him. But if Dean trusted Cas then Sam trusted Cas, no questions asked.

"I mean that saving a priest is good luck boy. Calm down." Rufus rolled his eyes. He was used to the Winchester brand of drama but it didn't stop him from being annoyed by it. The two kids had always been more theatrical then most.

"I still have to talk to Dean about this before we can decide."

"Talk to Dean about what?" The cowboy threw himself down at the table to while munching on a spare apple.

"I've got another run for you boys. This one is full of fancy chickens waiting to be plucked. I figured you boys would want to take advantage of it." Rufus tore the apple out of Dean's mouth and threw it behind him.

"Hey what the hell?" Rufus shot him a chilling look knocking the jokes right out of Dean's mouth. "Ah, I mean why don't we look at the map of the run. Where did you say it was going again?"


	4. Changes

Chapter Four: Changes

Castiel lowered himself in the hot bath water slowly. The steamy water felt like bliss on his bruised body. He was thankful for the little things, like the lemon scented soap left on the side of the tub or the fact that he could submerge his head without spilling any water. It had been so long since he had a proper bath. The wade in the river was so long ago he wondered how Dean could put up with the scent of sweat on his skin. Then again Dean never smelled unpleasant though he was unwashed. Castiel scrubbed the dirt from the creases of his neck while he tried to pin Dean's scent to a particular smell. He moved his soapy hands down his chest washing away the weeks of filth. He remembered Dean when they were at the river, his eyes so green against the hills- in the scripture angels were unearthly beings of insurmountable beauty he could see why in his feverish state could mistake him for an angel.

His heart did the strange leap again but this time he knew what it was. He had tried to shut the feeling out but somehow it kept creeping back. When he had first met Daphne he had not taken the pledge yet, he was still a "free agent" as Brother Zachariah had called him. Daphne worked with the merchant who delivered the seminary school's food. She was beautiful with soft green eyes that seemed to twinkle under the stained glass windows of the cathedral. He found himself daring to touch her arm while the colors danced across her face. He wanted so badly to kiss her but he knew his place was serving the lord. Yet here he was again, a free agent with no God to serve and no church to call his own.

He probably should have felt sad about being excommunicated from the church. He knew it would be the good catholic thing to do. The guilt did not weigh on his mind half as hard as the circumstances did. Castiel would not admit it out loud but he knew what he had done was right and the church; hell the whole town had been the ones wrong. What he did, what he did surely couldn't have been as bad as the Bishop had said right? The desert was in his view, a hazy mirage, and the hot sun turning his bones to dust while the angry villagers chased after him with murder on their breaths. Castiel jerked out of the water with fright, spilling the bath water all over the tiled floor. His breath came out in ragged sobs as he dry heaved over the edge of the tub.

Dean exploded through the door splintering the oak with the force of his shoulder. Castiel tried to tell him he was okay but he could only muster a whimper.

"Cas!" He heaved the shaking man out of the tub and wrapped a towl protectively around his wet shoulders. Castiel tried weakly to protest but his begging fell on deaf ears.

"Dean I swear I'm fine. I'm really fine." He weakly pushed at Dean's chest with the flat of his palm. Dean responded by pulling Castiel against himself. Castiel's hands left wet splotches on the front of Dean's shirt, but if he noticed Dean did not care. Dean's arms were steel but comforting.

"No you're not Cas. You can't even take a bath without have a fit. Man you really need to tell me what happened otherwise I can't help you." Dean's voice was soft and reassuring in his ear.

"Dean please." He whispered faintly.

"Shut up and let me help you. God damn Padre you are as stubborn as a mule."

"Takes one to know one."

"Sass, at a time like this? I knew I liked you for a reason. Now lets get you dressed. Do you think you can manage that without me needing to rescue you Princess?" They're faces were so close.

"I'm not a princess." Castiel grumbled. Dean laughed but Castiel's face was still pale. It frightened Dean a little; he thought Cas had been close to full recovery now he wondered if half the battle was a mental one. The kid obviously had suffered from something traumatic recently he wished Castiel trusted him enough to tell him.

"I used to get these after the fire when I was young." Dean helped him to his feet. "After I carried Sammy out of the house I couldn't get the flames out of my head. It's like they were imprinted into my brain." Castiel's heartbeat began to return to normal as Dean spoke. He pulled away from him and leaned into the wall a bit.

"What happened?"

"My Mom, she uh she was burned to death in Sam's nursery. Some desperado set the fire." His voice came out rough. He was smiling as he spoke, like the memory didn't harm him but his eyes spoke volumes.

"I'm so sorry Dean." Castiel timidly touched Dean's arm to comfort him.

"Thanks Cas." He looked at the priest with unshed tears in his green eyes. That moment he saw Dean for what he was, a man, a hero, and a cowboy with the urge to roam because his family was stolen from him. Castiel's heart ached painfully for him. They gazed at one another adoringly till Dean break their locked eyes by looking down. He turned a bright red from the tips of his ears down to his chin. "We should get you dressed buddy."

Castiel looked down at himself to see that the blanket only covered his shoulders and chest leaving his sensitive bits exposed for the whole world to see. The ex-priest yelped with fright and tried vainly to cover himself up. Dean stammered an apology while he ducked out of the room, redder then before.

Castiel quickly yanked on his new clothes staining the white collar of his shirt with his wet hair. He had avoided the mirror when he had first walked into the bathroom but now found his own image to be mesmerizing. Somehow in the six years of poverty he had given to the lord he had forgotten what he looked like. He touched his scruffy beard and peered closely at his eyes that were the same deep blue as they had always been. His reflection hadn't changed much besides the gauntness of his cheeks or the thickness of his beard. Maybe it was time for a change?

Rufus had left his straight razor on the counter next to a woman's perfume he assumed belonged to his wife. He soaped his beard with the lemon-scented bar in the tub and carefully ran the borrowed razor down his cheek to chin. The pale section of skin became larger as he moved methodically down his face freeing himself from his beard. It was the only thing he had left from his old life. The larger the patch became the freer he felt. With one last flick of his wrist all of the hair was gone from his face circling down the drain. He looked at himself again and was satisfied.

Linda Tran-Turner was not a push over nor a delicate flower like most people we led to believe because of her gender. She was a hard woman that kept the railroad workers in line with just a glare for her cool brown eyes. She kept her seventeen-year-old son rod straight in just the same fashion. Kevin was smarter then most, he had been able to read at five and took a great interest in steam engines at age seven. By ten the boy had made his own miniature steam engine out of spare parts Rufus had brought him. So when Linda turned her tiger eye's onto the two grown cowboys sitting in her kitchen with their boats on they jumped up faster then a jack-rabbit running from a rattle snake.

"Hello boys I see you remember the rules of the house. Next time try removing your coat and shoes as you come in or I will have Kevin create a mechanical man to remove them for you." Her husband let out a bark of laughter from his seat at the table. She shot a glare at him too; he slammed his mouth shut without even a smirk on his face. The boys were busy ripping their shoes and coats off to see the six-foot man afraid of his tiny wife.

"Has Kevin been in the lab all day dear? It's time for him to study philosophy you know Harvard is going to put him in the higher classes he's going to need Plato at his side." Linda began to pull various spices from the cabinets to assemble dinner for her family and her guests. One of the cabinets held strange vegetables Dean had never seen while the other held chilled chunks of meat. She pulled a hunk of what appeared to beef out of the cold cabinet while throwing the vegetables in a pot. She worked with both hands; one doing the cutting while the other added spices to the pot as though it were normal. Dean tried not to stare but the astonishment was visible on his face.

"Woman you know that boy won't leave his cave unless you tell him yourself. He don't give a lick what I tell him. Especially when he's working on that new water converter for the trackless train he's making." Rufus argued back.

"Rufus would you please gather our son. Dinner will be done soon but I'd like him to start his reading." She repeated in a calmer voice. Rufus grumbled something about witches but got up to find his adopted son anyway.

"Dean I heard we have a third guest gracing us this evening. Is this true?" Linda cut the meat as she spoke while somehow meeting Dean's eyes. He was a bit worried about her fingers but cared not to comment just incase she would take offense.

"He's getting dressed ma'am. Took him a minute to clean up."

"Actually Dean I'm right here." Castiel walked into the room with a different aura about him. The defeated man they had come to know was renewed, not just visually but emotionally it had appeared. Sam grinned widely at his friend while Dean stared at him as though he was seeing him for the first time. Sam said nothing but recognized the look that passed through his brother's eyes, the look of veneration was mixed with adoration. Something was brewing inside the older Winchester and Sam couldn't help but smile even wider.

"Hey Cas." Dean said softly. He wore a lopsided smile that made him appear drunk. Castiel looked so different without his ragged clothes or beard. The white button down paired with the slick black vest made his tapered waist appear slimmer while his strong jaw line was more apparent now that it was shaved. They stared at one another in the odd way that made it look like they could communicate telepathically.

"So how about that dinner?"


End file.
